


Who's Forgiveness For?

by Diary



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bechdel Test Fail, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Bottle Episode Fic, Conversations, Gen, Gen Fic, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hurt/Comfort, Male-Female Friendship, POV Neville Longbottom, Past Tense, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6789889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reposted. Neville tries to deal with his complicated feelings regarding Bellatrix Lestrange's death. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's Forgiveness For?

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

He hates his first thought of: A housewife killed you, but my parents, decorated aurors, couldn’t.

It’s cruel and so many other things.

Neville is glad Ginny’s okay, glad nothing bad happened to her mother, and is full of admiration for Mrs Weasley unflinchingly protecting her daughter.

As he looks down, he can’t help but feel sick. This unmoving woman with not even the faintest movement in her chest took his parents from him. She hurt him and the others at the ministry. All his life, he’s hated her, but some part of him finds himself looking in her eyes and begging her to breathe.

What does that make me, he wonders. Someone who feels- what, what does he feel?- towards the woman who subjected his parents to a fate arguably worse than death.

His hand goes to his robes, and he feels the first wrapper he remembers his mum giving him.

It’s stiff and cool against his fingers. 

Someone approaches.

A blonde figure passes him and kneels down. Dimly, he realises it’s Luna. She reaches over and places two fingers on Lestrange’s forehead, gently brings them downward, and closes the eyes.

For a moment, she stays there, and then, she stands, walks over to his side, and her hand reaches out to intertwine her fingers with his.

Briefly, he realises this is the first time she’s done so.

Taking a shuddering breath, he says, “I don’t know what I feel.”

“I imagine that’s common for those who’ve just survived a war,” she answers in her normal, far-away tone.

“What would you do?”

“I’d let go,” she answers.

“What, forgive her,” he demands.

He might want her to breathe, again, right now, but tonight, he won’t shed any tears over her death.

“I suppose it depends on your definition of forgive,” she answers. “There are many different ones for it, you know.” He looks over at her, and she continues looking straight ahead. “Harry, Ron, and Hermione have forgiven each other for mistakes made. The law, and eventually, most of the wizarding world, will forgive Draco Malfoy. And sometimes, forgiveness is nothing more than cutting a bond by refusing to keep hating someone. It’s not done for them, you see, but for the person doing it.”

All his life, he’s hated the Lestranges and Crouch, and in his fourth year, he started to flourish under the latter. As disloyal as it makes him, he’s never been able to simplify his feelings there.

He doesn’t like Crouch or pity his death, but he had liked the man he thought was Moody. He still has some of books Crouch gave him.

Hermione had told him bonding with the fake Moody and liking him wasn’t a betrayal. Feeling conflicted was normal, she’d added.

He’s never really believed her.

“What reason is there? She’s dead.”

“Then, why are you standing here, looking at her, instead of having sweets and talking with your friends,” Luna inquires. “She’s dead, and whether you hate her or not, it won’t help your parents. The only person she has any power over, now, is those who continue to let her.”

“Her magic still has power over my mum and dad,” he answers.

She squeezes his hand.

Taking a deep breath, he looks at the absolutely unmoving Bellatrix Lestrange with her eyes closed.

Let go.

He’s sure it’s easy enough for Luna, but he’s been seeing his parents since he was eight and known even before then he should have a mummy and daddy like the other kids he saw in Diagon Alley. He’s had to deal with never being good enough and with realising his gran would have rather his dad, her son, die than to succumb to insanity. Everyone talks about how his dad loved muggle comics and would never shut up about them and how his mum was big on collecting newspaper clippings on random things; he sometimes wonders if this is trying to shine through in her insistence on giving him wrappers.

His dad doesn’t recognise comics, and his mum simply tears newspapers into tiny pieces. He grew up scared and insecure. His gran fights the heartbreak every day.

He thinks of Harry, a quiet boy who gave him sweets and told him he was worth twelve of Malfoy. Now, he’s a confident man who, once and for all, defeated Voldemort. He thinks of Ron, a loud, sarcastic boy who didn’t know how to deal with a bossy, bushy-haired girl. Now, he’s a sarcastic man who would give his life for said girl and is unashamed to admit it. He thinks of Hermione, a bossy know-it-all who’s always been kind to him and hid a deeply lonely side. Now, she’s a woman who’s crossed lines, some of which she shouldn’t have, and has discovered the hero she never really thought she could be, even when she was eleven and became one.

All his housemates, both the dead and living, cross his mind. Everyone has grown, for good and bad, including him. He can’t imagine him, even a year ago, killing a snake, never mind one linked to Voldemort. 

“How?”

“I don’t know,” Luna answers. “It’s different for everyone.”

The wrapper’s warm against his fingers.

Taking his hand from Luna’s, he kneels down next to Lestrange. Withdrawing the wrapper, he opens her hand, shudders at the cold, clammy skin, sets it on the palm, and closes her fingers over it. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, but right now, I’m not going to worry about it.” He hesitates before finally settling on, “You almost destroyed me, and you did destroy my parents. But I’m still here, and I want to worry about my life, not about my past. Goodbye, Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Wiping the tears away, he stands up and stops in front of Luna. She turns, and together, they walk away from the dead body.

“Thank you.”

“You did it yourself,” she answers. “Do you think it would be okay to take some cake to my dad?”

Feeling a sense of calm settle over him, he answers, “Sure, Luna. He’s still doing okay?”

“Yes. Though he’s worried he won’t be able to print The Quibbler, anymore.”

“We’ll help him get things up and running,” he promises.

“Your grandmother won’t be happy,” she points out.

“No,” he agrees, “she won’t. But as much as I love her, I think it’s time I break away. I’m thinking of getting a flat in Diagon Alley. Now that I’m of age, I’m pretty sure Uncle Algie will give me a loan.”

“Would you care for a flatmate? Once The Quibbler’s up, I plan to start apprenticing for my dad full time. Perhaps, it’s time I start exploring the world more on my own, too.”

Neville’s aware he would have once found the suggestion absolutely terrifying, but now, it comes across as reasonable and exciting. “I might,” he answers. They approach a table filled with sweets. “We’ll see.”

They sit down, and he soon finds himself laughing with his friends and enjoying the sense of peace sweeping the castle.


End file.
